Scottish Poetry Selection
SowingA mavis is trying his morning trill.
The sky is pale, and the wind is still;
I watch a sower go up the hill.
Timed like a tune is his mighty stride
With the swing of his shoulders side to side;
Straight, as the furrow his plough would guide.
Like heart-beat rhythm his sower-play,
Systolè and diastolè,
Dip in the pannier, sweep of spray.
Manful vigour in reigned control,
Motion in harmony, part and whole,
Grace his gait like an aureole.
Lone, like a god in the ages gone,
His presence peoples the desert of dawn:
Smiling, the ancient sun looks on.
Villas are sown on the hill to-day:
The sower I saw is bowed and grey-
But one sweet morning is mine alway.
Meaning of unusual words:
systolè=contraction of the heart
diastolè=dilation of the heart
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